


the eclipses end

by ScottieIsImpatient



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Brief mention of torture once, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Malcolms family DOES love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: Malcolm is returning home to see his family after being kidnapped and presumed dead for almost four months. Understandably, he's anxious.A small continuation of "these late eclipses"
Relationships: Malcolm Reed & Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Malcolm Reed & his family
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	the eclipses end

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all
> 
> So I think I experienced a bit of a burnout in fic writing. I've also been caught up in school issues, and have begun revising my personal novel for the fiftieth time. While I won't be as active as I was (because jesus CHRIST was I busy on ao3 for a while) but I'll still post now and then. I have new tuckerreed fics in the works to hopefully show y'all at some point.
> 
> Anyway. This is a little continuation ficlet of these late eclipses, of Malcolm returning home to see his family. I tried to keep him relatively in-character while also showing how much he's been affected, so it may be a little OOC.
> 
> If you've read tle, you may know that I left quite a lot of questions unanswered. Who were the aliens that kidnapped Malcolm and Hamaya? What was their reasoning? Will the two men forever have strange alien devices stuck on their hearts? Those were left ambiguous for a reason. I'd actually planned on a sequel. But, considering how my last sequeled fics turned out, I wasn't quite sure I wanted to go through with it.
> 
> Think of this as an experiment. If you'd like to see a sequel, please do say so! If you want the fic left as is, also tell me that. Whatever your opinion will help me decide what I want to do in the future :3
> 
> (For the record, the sequel would contain plenty new Malcolm angst, perhaps a tiny bit of tuckerreed, and would dive a hell of a lot into the background of these strange mysterious aliens. All big pluses, wouldn't you agree?)

He’s nervous. He can’t remember feeling this nervous ever before in his life. Not even during his high school graduation, where he was forced to make the student speech, being the top student. Not even when he announced to his family that he was pursing a Starfleet career as opposed to the navy. Malcolm closes his eyes and forces himself to take deep breaths, hoping it’ll pass quick. He doesn’t need nor want the extra attention.

No such luck.

“Malcolm?” Trip’s soft voice comes through the darkness. “Are you alright?”

With a long sigh, Malcolm opens his eyes once more. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just…” he needn’t finish. Trip knows perfectly well what is bothering the other man.

Trip lifts himself off the opposite bench and repositions himself beside Malcolm instead, leaving little more than a few millimetres between them. The close contact is rather uncomfortable for Malcolm. He’s had an aversion to being touch ever since the aliens kidnapped him, along with Ensigns Hamaya and Rivers, and preformed their… experiments.

He shakes the memories away, tears pricking his eyes. It’s over now. He’s going home. He’s going home and it’s all over and he’s _safe,_ damnit.

“They’ll be happy ta see ya,” Trip whispers, breaking the silence. “I know you don’t have the best relationship with yer folks, Malcolm, but… from what yer sister told me, they were all broken up when they thought you’d died. It seemed like-”

“Trip, please,” Malcolm interjects. He leans forward, face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “I know you’re trying to help and all but it’s just… it’s _not_ helping. Okay?”

“Oh.”

Malcolm looks up, and immediately wishes he hadn’t, for the heartbroken look on his friend’s face is just what was needed to start the waterworks. Within seconds tears are streaming down his cheeks, his shoulders shivering with silent sobs. Trip wraps his arms around him and Malcolm leans into the warm embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Trip whispers once Malcolm’s calmed down a bit.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Malcolm sniffles, straightening up. “Trip, I know my parents were probably devastated. I know they love me, even if it isn’t often spoken outright. I know they’ll be worried. It’s _that_ worry that troubles me.” He stops, wondering if he should continue, but, bloody hell, he’s come this far already. “My father, for one… he’s always been looking for an excuse to get me out of Starfleet. Getting kidnapped and tortured by aliens would never have happened had I joined the navy. And I know he’ll use that against me.”

The expression on Trip’s face morphs from depression to anger. “He’d do that? That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel. It’s logical. Commander T’Pol would be proud of it, I think.”

“I don’t care how _logical_ it is; none of ya are Vulcans,” Trip says crossly. “I’ll come with you when you see them, okay? If yer ol’ man even says one word like that I’ll go off at him.”

Malcolm can’t resist a chuckle. Trip may be passionate, but the old Captain Reed is a brick wall. Nothing can get past him, not even the most furious of engineers. “It wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, Trip, I can look after myself.”

Trip sighs. “I know, but…”

“And if I have someone defending me, how will that look?” Malcolm’s concentrating on keeping his voice level; his tone unable to betray any of his true feelings. “I’m already weak enough. I don’t need to look even weaker.”

A heavy silence drops between the two men. In the front, the pilot is shifting uncomfortably, clearly trying his best to pretend he’s elsewhere. Malcolm forgot all about him.

“Alright,” whispers Trip finally. “This is yer family time, after all. I won’t intrude. Anyway, I got family of my own ta see.” Neither of them mentions that this said family is still missing one irreplaceable member. “Just… try to have a good time, yeah? You deserve it.”

“I’ll try.”

Trip stays with him as they depart the shuttlecraft. Together, they clamber down the ramp into the main arrivals area, Malcolm already craning his neck to search for the three familiar faces. His anxiety reaches new heights when at first, he can’t find them. Did they decide not to come? Did they leave him alone?

Then a voice screams, “Malcolm!” and he wonders how he could ever have thought such a thing.

Malcolm takes off in a sprint, boots clicking against the tiled floor, shoulder bag swinging against his thigh as he charges towards his sister. The two collide, at first merely a blur of green and blue and a tangle of limbs. Tears of relief run freely down his face and he clings to Madeline like a lifeline, as if she’d vanish if he let go, caught off-guard by how strong his desperation to physically hold her is.

Madeline laughs as she cries too. She has her younger brother in an equally tight grip. The relief she felt when the news first hit home had seemed too unreal, and she knew there was no way she’d believe it until she saw him.

And now here he is.

“I thought you were dead,” Madeline states the obvious, pulling away. Malcolm has this massive grin on his lips and his grey eyes are shiny, his cheeks tearstained. She’s shocked at the openness he’s expressing, almost angry at those that caused the pain in his eyes, but she has no time to be angry right now. “Don’t do that again,” she scolds.

“I’ll try not to,” Malcolm chokes out.

“Oh, my boy.” Instantly, Mrs. Reed has her son in her own arms, squeezing the life out of him if Malcolm’s expression is anything to go by. Following nearly incomprehensible words of profound consolation, Mrs. Reed steps back, her husband taking her place.

Madeline watches Malcolm’s expression as it snaps back to the same blank mask he almost always wears around their father. She knows why, of course, for Mr. Reed was rather harsh on the boy over the years, and she can’t say she blames Malcolm. She just wishes he’d give Stuart a little more credit.

“Malcolm,” says the older Reed.

“Father,” says the younger.

A period of stifling silence ensues, broken only by Malcolm’s shuddering breaths as he attempts to calm himself. It’s as if he wasn’t completely breaking down a mere few minutes ago.

Then Stuart Reed takes one swift step forward, enveloping Malcolm in probably the most tentative hug of all. Madeline watches the expressions that flit across her brother’s face – fear, confusion, disbelief, until it finally settles on the very emotion Malcolm’s rarely ever shown towards their father.

Love.

Then he breaks down all over again.


End file.
